


the shortest distance between two points is a line

by buttheyrebrothers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Suicide Attempt, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttheyrebrothers/pseuds/buttheyrebrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We always said ‘til the end of the line. Did you know that lines are infinite? In geometry a line has infinite length; it goes in both directions without an end.</p>
<p>So what does this say about us? </p>
<p>In which Bucky tries to tell Steve to stop looking for him - only it seems like he can't stay away himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the shortest distance between two points is a line

**Author's Note:**

> Based on something I read the other day:
> 
> In Geometry a "Line" has infinite length ... it goes in both directions without an end.   
> If it has one end it is called a Ray, and if it has two ends it is called a Line Segment, but that needs extra information to define where the ends are.
> 
> So when they say "I'm with you until the end of the line." they basically mean forever, right?

> We always said ‘til the end of the line. Did you know that lines are infinite? In geometry a line has infinite length; it goes in both directions without an end.
> 
> So what does this say about us?
> 
> That the thing between us will never end or that it is an impossibility, never meant to be in the first place because it grew on a wrong assumption?
> 
> You have to tell me because I don’t even remember when we discovered our infinite line; their stupid exhibitions won’t talk about this. They write about how we were poor and lived together to save rent. I remember being cold, but then again – when wasn’t I? It seems all I remember is the cold, all-consuming ice in my hair, in my veins, in my heart.
> 
> But that’s not true. I remember a skinny blonde kid whose strongest feature surely was his determination.
> 
> Scratch that, I got it wrong again (I seem to do this a lot, getting things wrong, doing wrong, everything is wrong, wrong, wrong).
> 
> His strongest feature was his heart. That was how I knew it was you when you let me beat you up, refusing to hurt your friend even if said friend doesn’t even remembers you.
> 
> I remembered then. Not everything. Not even close. But I remembered being a person, being a Bucky. Your Bucky. It had been the best thing in my life; I don’t need to remember the rest of it to know this for sure.
> 
> I saw you fall, I was falling. You were looking up at me, down at me. All became mixed up and before I could do anything I was already in the air. Jumping, falling. Saving you.
> 
> Whatever I do – I’m wrong. I fail. I failed you by letting them break me. I failed my mission by putting the pieces in your hands and somehow hoping you could put them back together.
> 
> I don’t even know why I’m writing you this, it doesn’t make sense. Nothing does these days. Maybe I want to ask you to stop looking for me – yeah I know you do, Stevie.
> 
> Maybe I want to ask you to not give up on me because I remember you never did and I always loved this about you. I don’t want to be the reason you stop. I took enough from you, hurt you enough.
> 
> I don’t like to sleep; the dreams terrify me too much. But on some nights I’m lucky. My dreams tend to slip through my fingers like sand as soon as I wake up but some impressions stay. Often it is your voice saying my name.
> 
> “Bucky.”
> 
> Sometimes it’s said playfully, teasingly – mirth in your voice laced with so much affection I want to cry if I only remembered how.
> 
> But most of the times it’s you – big you, the hero, icon of a nation and still the little punk from Brooklyn standing on that bridge. You said it with so much _hope_.
> 
> For a short but invaluable moment I remembered what this felt like. _Hope_. It sits in my chest between my ribs whenever I have this dream. It puts its roots in there and nurtures from your voice, growing bigger and stronger every time.
> 
> Maybe I just want you to find me. Or – not me. I want you to find Bucky, your Bucky. He misses you. I wish I could be him.
> 
> _I miss you, Stevie._

Steve’s hands shake so hard he can barely read the words in front of him. The first tears start to smudge the words when a sob wrenches free from his chest. He is so glad he is alone in his apartment because he is not sure he could have held it together. But he _is_ alone so he lets it all out – the pain, the anger, the grief. The fucking longing for his best friend, the man he loved most in the world and whose death – not death, he was not even allowed this kind of relief, but his torture and abuse, his destruction – he is responsible for.

He had told Sam that even when he had nothing he had Bucky. And that had always been true – even after his fall Bucky had been his reason to go on, to revenge him, to make his sacrifice count. Bucky had been his shoulder, his home, his everything. Even his first kiss, a drunken press of lips after raiding the alcohol cabinet of Bucky’s father. He had never got the chance for a second one.

He is on his knees, bulky body shaking from earthshaking sobs – or maybe it shakes because Steve is hitting it with his fits over and over and over again. They would have been bruised back then or maybe broken. He wished the pain would stay – a distraction from the pain in his chest. Better his hands than his heart but when did he ever got his wishes?

It’s a testament for the state he’s in that he doesn’t even hear the man approaching. He could have been dead by now if it had been an enemy. Maybe this is still a possibility.

Because there is Bucky. Unharmed but that doesn’t mean much – the man himself is a weapon.

He looks down at Steve with an unreadable expression on his face but Steve thinks he sees pain in these once so expressive eyes.

“I didn’ wanna hurt you.”

His voice is rough from disuse and barely above a whisper. Steve is not sure if he means the incident on the bridge or the helicarrier or the letter. Probably all of the above.

“I know. Bucky, I know. I – it’s not your fault.”

Bucky’s face doesn’t move much but he still manages to look doubtful. At least Steve hasn’t lost his Bucky-reading abilities.

“I made you bleed. I made you _cry_.”

Indifferent voice but still so soft, like speaking any louder would break this moment and shatter it in thousand pieces. An irretrievable chance.

“No. Bucky, _no_. Hydra did all this, not you. You never hurt me. You never could, Buck.”

Steve doesn’t even know why it is so important to him to say Bucky’s name as often as possible but somehow it is. He feels like it’s the right thing to do and the other man hasn’t run off so far so maybe it truly is.

“Bucky couldn’t – he wouldn’t. But I – I’m not sure how much of him is left in here. I don’t know if I can ever be him again. You deserve to have him back and I – I can’t give him to you.”

And to Steve’s absolute horror he sees Bucky crumble right in front of him, knees hitting the ground next to Steve and face contorted in unspeakable pain. His right hand reaches out for Steve and he grabs it – holding on for dear life because Bucky’s next words make his heart stop right in his heaving chest.

“Kill me. _Please_. Kill me. I can’t go on like this. I wanted to do it myself – spare you the pain but I can’t, not before I hadn’t seen you one last time but now I think I will never do it. I will ever want to see you one last time.”

There is a gun in his hand that wasn’t there a second before. Bucky really means it.

_Jesus_.

Bucky has closed his eyes and waits for the blow; his face is even close to peaceful. As is Steve could ever do it. Instead he unloads the gun before placing it behind himself. And then he does the only thing he can think of – he tries to kill the Winter Soldier with kindness instead.

Steve places his hands at Bucky’s neck, thumbs stroking the hair at his nape before he slowly pulls him in and gets the second kiss he had waited over seven decades for.

Of course life is not a fairy tale no matter what Disney wants to tell you so his kiss doesn’t break the evil curse that lays over Bucky.

But when he pulls back there is a hand at his waist and a desperate sound between their lips. And after he is kissed back – even if it is clumsy and hesitant – and finally does pull back Bucky is still there.

He stays until the sun gets up before slipping out of the window like the ghost everyone accuses him to be.

Somehow Steve is sure he will be back.


End file.
